On the stageToo shy to ever appear on stage myself, I still hung around theatres like a bad smell when I was younger - lighting and set design were what I was good at.
Backstage we'd attempt to sabotage every production - us lighting geeks would wind up the sound man by putting the remote "pause" button for his reel-to-reel tape machine on his chair, so when he sat down it'd start running, ruining his cues. Actors would do scenes out of order to make our lives hell. It was great and I don't know why I don't still do it.
Tell us your stories of life on the stage.
(
chthonic, Fri 2 Dec 2005, 11:02)
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Cocking with ElvisA couple of years ago, I was cast as Stuart in an Amateur production of the truly magnificent play, "Cooking with Elvis".
Those of you of a more (or perhaps less...) cultural bent will know that the play involves the thick-as-fuck Stuart shagging an underaged fat lass, wanking a cripple off and licking the resultant manfat from his fingers, kissing said cripple...oh, and nudity.
Initially, none of this concerned me. Everything apart from the nudity was, of course, merely acting. And I was under the impression that the nudity would be of the "back to the audience, arse only" so beloved of raucous, provincial comedies (cf. The Full Monty).
However, I'm nothing if not an arrogant and unlovable fuck. And the director, who is mates with the writer, wanted this production to be as good as the original play (and better than the one featuring world renowned alcoholic brummie poopie-poker, Frank Skinner).
"So," she said to me "are you going to do full frontal nudity?"
"Wh....what?" I said, feeling like a starlet encountering the first Casting Couch moment.
"Well, you can do it with your arse to the audience, but...well, they did it full frontal in the original play. And I know what you're like; you won't want people going away thinking you're a coward for not going all the way like the pro did".
Bugger. She had found my weakness; my vanity and sense of superiority.
So; the week of the play arrived, and I got my knob out twice a night in front of an audience of baying, cock-hungry "women of a certain age". And the play went down a storm; standing ovations every night, and in my case, an ego that threatened to block out the sun.
Come the last night, we were told of an unexpected treat; the cast of the original play were coming to watch us. Much glee ensued, and I like to think that we did ourselves proud.
After the show, whilst exchanging luvvie-related smalltalk with the chap who played Stuart in the original, he remarked "Mind, you're very brave."
Gears started to whirr in my mind. In particular, the gears marked "You been stitched up GOOD and proper".
"What d'you mean?" I asked, a rictus grin frozen to my face.
"Well, I always just showed my arse to the audience and...where are you going?" he asked to the back of my head, as I exited the room to shouts of "Where's that FUCKING director?!?!"
So yes; I was tricked into displaying my trumpet and flute. And I wasn't even allowed to put a note in the program explaining how cold it was onstage...
I'd apologise for the length, but it would come across as a cheap pun.
(, Mon 5 Dec 2005, 12:48, Reply)
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